@Love Dove@Madame Kitten So as not to flood your OOC, I merely edited my last post with my CS's, hope they're okay. I've made sure that they're in hiders for you.
They're not as good as my originals, so I'll work on them more when I've gotten some sleep. Otherwise, they're rough but accurate versions of the characters I wish to submit.
So here's an abbreviated version of my CS's. I'll work on them more later today, but right now this is the best I can manage lol
(Appearance goes above, though anime Pictures please) Name: Oscar Knott Age: 19 Powers: Psionic Weapons: Oscar needs no weapons, his powers more than sufficient Bio: Oscar was born to a high-middle class family in a private suburb. He lived most of his life as a normal boy until he reached puberty. He began to hear voices in his head, thinking himself insane. His family committed him and finally Oscar realized that the voices had come from outside, not from his own. Eventually, he controlled his powers and was released from the hospital.
Not soon after though, came the visions. He dreamed of people deaths and eventually the guilt caught up to the boy. He spoke up, telling his teacher who he'd dreamed would die in a violent motor vehicle the following night. His teacher behaved as any normal would and flipped on his student, putting in a call to the school's principal. With motions in action to send Oscar back to the asylum, he began packing his bags. Before that could happen, his teacher died exactly as Oscar had predicted, eliciting a visceral response from the town.
It was nearly like Salem as the townspeople banded and voted to have the boy removed from the town proper. With local law enforcement and a large number of the town's populace showed in front of Oscar's house. The boy panicked, packing only the minimum to skip town. With so much force, he tried to escape through his window, only to be grabbed by police officers. He struggled, which only made the cops force him to the ground aggressively. As his jaw hit ground, Oscar let out a visceral scream , the cops flying into trees and his own house respectively. One of the officer's backup fired at Oscar, only to catch his own bullet.
Oscar ran away, manipulating people as he went. They gave him whatever he asked for whether that be money, food, or a place to stay. Eventually Ms. Dawson's people caught up with him and offered a deal he couldn't refuse. Then he was on the fast track to the glorified prison for super powered kids.
Dreams/Wishes: To be accepted by his family. Evil, Good, Walking the Line: Walking the Line Siblings (If Any): None that matter Pets (If Any): None
Name: Kenny Brookes Age: 17 Powers: Absolute Regeneration Appearance: Bio: Kenny grew up hiding his secret after a dog bit him when he was just a five year old. The bite had instantly healed, before it barely had time to bleed. After that, he tried hard to conceal his supernatural status. He avoided contact sports in his schools and dangerous activities with friends. His family spoiled him, providing opportunity to pursue his love, martial arts. In his time before he went to Ms. Dawson's, Kenny learned Judo, Jiu-jitsu, Aikido, and Muay Thai.
His family traveled on vacation to the Keys. They had finally settled into their hotels, unpacked, and had headed to the beach. They were enjoying a romp in the waves when fate reared its head. His younger sister, Jade, was swimming deep in the ocean when the warning went out. A shark had been sighted up the shore and swimmers were told to leave the waters. Riptide had come and Kenny's sister was being pulled farther and farther from shore. He swam as hard as he could, eyes trained on Jade the entire way.
As he reached her, a fin broke the surf. Kenny swam back to shore, even as the shark ripped into his legs. His powers made sure to keep him alive, able to kick and pull until Jade could break back to shore. Kenny let himself be pulled back into the water and out. Eventually Kenny escaped and swarm far down the shore, coming up under the piers. With some borrowed clothes from good-natured tourists, he made it back to his family's hotel. They had assumed he was dead and flipped when they saw him again. They screamed and denied that their son was one of their freaks on the television. Rejected by his family, Kenny left for Ms. Dawson's soon after. Evil, Good, or Walking the Line: Good Siblings: Jade (possibly a super) Pets: A full grown Huskie- Orion.
Krystoff was sympathetic to Damian, noting the shakiness. The guy never got the caffeine jitters, but he didn't want to hurt the guy's pride. "Yea, maybe you should stick to decaf. Or tea, I hear it works wonders for you." He gobbled down the rest of his bowl, eyeing the bos ofcereal and milk he'd left for himself. Did he want another bowl? Of course he did. He filled it up with cereal once more, the light waifs making a tinkling sound that filled the kitchen.
He pulled the bong off of the counter and took a large hit. He released it away from Damian out of courtesy before holding it out for him. "No need to be coy big bro. It helps with the anxiety," Krystoff paused for a moment, his own growing worries surfacing for a moment, "trust me." Damian was a good leader, a better brother, but the guy never took down time. Neither did he, now that the boy thought of it. What had changed him? He would've told Alexi off for this kind of behavior when he'd first arrived at the Blackwell house. He'd been straight-laced as they came, but slowly after prolonged exposure to the Devil's Fang, he felt his values slowly shifting.
Ekrom walked through the markets, looking for that one upgrade that was actually worth the credits. Vorcha hissed at him as he passed, but on closer inspection of his considerable firepower, grew silent and backed away. Here in Omega, power was the real solution and Ekrom wasn't lacking that in any respect. After closing the last vendor's inventory, he snorted in disgust and wandered onto the main pavilion. Omega's music reached him even from the doors, a low thrum felt through the soles of his feet and a steady throb of music, muffled by its walls.
He made his way to the illustrious club, waved through by the elcor bouncer. Walking down the hallway towards the doors, various faces and eyes turned to regard the drell with curiosity and wariness. Not many ever saw a drell in full armor and armed to the teeth. Ekrom was a regular face among the wards, his skills freelanced to any of the mercenary groups around Omega.
He'd received a vidcomm from one of Aria's bodyguards informing him of a lucrative contract handled by a female turian. Usually the man's intel was substandard at best, but this might actually prove to be worthwhile of the infamous mercenary. The krogan bouncer gave him a respectful nod, seeing the Claymore holstered at his lower back. Any krogan worth his hump would've known the deadly weapon at a glance, the weapon revered by their species. Anyone other than a krogan that could wield its recoil was worthy of a bit of space. Ekrom scanned the bar, the music nearly overwhelming to his finely tuned senses.
He caught sight of a female turian speaking to a human, regular soldier turned mercenary by his looks. Next to her sat an asari, extremely attractive, but he could tell she was trained by the way she nursed her drink. Keeping a clear head was a sign of a professional. Crossing the floor, weaving between dancers with a fluid grace, Ekrom took the seat the human had just cleared after cracking a foolish batarian.
The ugly four-eyed alien in question had still not moved from the place he landed, still clutching his stomach and groaning. He signaled the bartender, "Two fingers of Serrice brandy." The expensive drink wasn't something usually ordered, the bartender opening a new bottle. Ekrom didn't usually drink, but when he did he preferred the cool but stinging drink above all else. He turned in the stool, one elbow comfortably on the counter, his free hand bringing his glass to lips for a small sip. Oh yes, that was delicious. "I don't know about the human, but I am certainly interested." His voice was gravelly like most drell, but sounded like he was still young. Age was hard to pin down for a drell. He flagged down the bartender once more. "Whatever her drink was, replace it on me." He gave her a charming smile and introduced himself. "I go by Ekrom."
I'll work on his introductory post once I get back from a quick trip from the store. You guys already had the meet, I read, so how should I have my character make an entrance?
Apparel: When not in his armor, Ekrom wears the standard garb of the Drell, a high collared and wide chest affair. The material is light so it the user is kept cool, but fits to the form. The sleeves end in gloves, making the shirt one seamless piece.
Personality: Ekrom is fiercely spiritual, a characteristic falling out of the trend for the modern-day Drell. Even with such beliefs however, he never held the Hanar in high-esteem, leaving their service as soon as the Compact would permit. He approaches everything logically, but that has never detracted from a wry sense of humor and a familiar tone to any he would call comrade. Not one to suffer deception, especially self-deception, he is straightforward and will speak his opinion whether requested or not.
Ekrom was like any other drell for 21 years, being the Hanars' deadly hand in the galaxy. The drell was sent on missions most would never come back from, but Ekrom is a survivor. After nearly a decade and a half of active service in the Compact, Ekrom's luck finally ran out. His team of four other drells were sent into a hostile area of space, where batarian pirates had regularly intercepted and stolen hanar trade ships. After locating the pirates' ship frequency, the drell task force made their move.
As soon as they came out of the FTL jump, everything went to hell. A second pirate ship pulled out from the shadow of a nearby gas giant which had masked its signal. Ekrom's ship's engine were compromised with the first shot, cutting off any hope of escape. Before his men could get to the escape pods, a second shot tore a whole in the hull close to the air lock where his team had waited for infiltration. They never had a chance as the vacuum of space tore apart the ship's metal shell as easy as a wet piece of paper. Ekrom sprinted to the only workable space pod, struggling to pull himself by various beams and consoles. Finally, he managed to get strapped in and escaped, reaching an FTL jump with only a second to spare. He had the honor of watching his ship explode before his pod took him to safety.
Inconsolable, Ekrom cursed the hanar and their missions. He renounced his active status in the Compact and fled to Omega, putting his prodigious skills, upgrades, and talents to work. He'd not been the normal drell, trained instead for front-line and high risk fighting. Most were wetwork specialist, taking advantage of the eidetic memory common to all drell. Ekrom's genetic coding showed a high compatibility with body enhancement technology. With heavy skin upgrades and extensive heavy muscle weaves, his endurance and strength rivaling a male krogan in his prime. This allows him to use the devastating Claymore shotgun while keeping the bones in his shooting arm intact. Furthermore, the hanar bought the very best of biotic implants for Ekrom, their prodigy, allowing him to use the legendary biotic ability, Biotic Charge.
Ekrom found that his particular talents were in high demand and that he could not handle the amount of work without his own personal spacecraft. He bought a state of the art frigate at a fraction of the price in a C-sec auction. He installed a frequency jamming unit and with a risky trade with the Collectors for a newly made human colony's security plans, installed an advanced Thanix Cannon. Burying his morals, he went through with the deal, after heavy negotiations. The mysterious race agreed to his terms, apparently finding the terms agreeable. After hiring a crew of fifteen, Ekrom began his career as a mercenary band leader. His outfit was named Amonkira's Hand and his ship the Shadow Sword. Now, he's looking for new contracts and contracts to fund his ambitious enterprises.
